


He Drives Me Crazy

by Technomad



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Technomad/pseuds/Technomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her summer of acting in Espara, Sabetha wants to get out for a quiet drink, away from the boys.  She is at the Last Mistake tavern, when she runs into an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Drives Me Crazy

He Drives Me Crazy

by Technomad

a Gentleman Bastard fanfic

 

Sabetha Belacros walked into the Last Mistake tavern, looking around. The place was just about as she remembered it from a few months previous, before she and the rest of the Gentleman Bastards (save only Chains) had gone to Espara to be actors in a play. The décor was still based on the theme “not good enough,” but she noticed a couple of new items here and there. It looks like there’ve been some more shipwrecks near Camorr, she thought, sitting down at her favorite spot, where she could sit with her back to the wall and keep an eye on whatever was going on in the tavern, and signal easily for more wine if she wanted it. 

She sipped her lemon wine thoughtfully. The Last Mistake was quiet; it was mid-afternoon, and most of the Right People were either asleep or at work on their schemes. She had known it would be quiet; she was in the mood for a quiet drink away from the rest of the Gentleman Bastards and was in no mood to fend off propositions from horny drunks. She also did not plan to get drunk herself; a woman could not afford to make the sort of mistakes that a man could get away with, particularly among the Right People. Capa Barsavi would take a terrible revenge on anybody who raped one of his pezon, but that would not make it not have happened. An ounce of prevention, Chains had always said, was better than a pound of revenge. The sentiment was rather un-Camorri, but made sense, as so many of Chains’ pronouncements did.

She was suddenly joined by someone she hadn’t seen in a while, as Nazca Barsavi sat down across from her. The daughter of the capa raised a sardonic eyebrow, her eyes gleaming behind her optics. “Drinking alone, dear? Not a good habit to be in.” She signalled for a waiter. 

“Just got back from Espara, Nazca,” Sabetha replied. “Chains sent the twins, Jean, Locke and me up there. He was repaying a favor to an old friend.” 

“Really?” Nazca grinned wickedly. “Must have been an awfully big favor. You were all gone all summer! I missed you.” The waiter appeared with a bottle of wine. Nazca nodded, and the waiter left it. In the Last Mistake, no Barsavi had to pay for drinks. “Care for a refill?” asked Nazca, opening the bottle. Sabetha nodded, and Nazca poured for both of them. “Here’s to friends reunited!”

“I know what you mean,” Sabatha said, sipping at the wine. “Much as I love the boys, having had to deal with them at close quarters for so long did get a bit tiresome. It’s good to be back with a woman friend --- one of the Right People.” 

Nazca nodded in understanding. “I know just what you mean. A lot of people act differently around me because of who my father is. And I love my brothers, but…” She didn’t need to say any more. Sabetha understood. 

The Barsavi brothers, Anjais and Pachero, were both good, but, in Sabetha’s private, innermost opinion, not up to filling their father’s shoes. In her view, they were a little too entitled, a little too overconfident, to really succeed their ruthless, able father as Capa of Camorr. And that was without the rivalry that would spring up between them the second that Capa Barsavi breathed his last. 

Sabetha looked at Nazca. The only daughter of the Capa, she already ran a good deal of his operation, including keeping track of every coin paid in tribute to the ruler of Camorr’s underworld by the garristas controlling Camorr’s many gangs. Along with the rest of the Gentleman Bastards, Sabetha had accompanied Father Chains many times as he paid Capa Barsavi the tribute he demanded. The fact that what Chains paid was much, much less than what should have been paid was a closely-held secret; nobody outside the Gentleman Bastards knew of their real activities. Even though Sabetha was probably Nazca’s closest friend, she would never have dreamed of telling her. It would have meant certain death by torture for all the Gentleman Bastards. Capa Barsavi had a zero-tolerance rule for violations of the Secret Peace between the Camorri nobles and the underworld.

Nazca was looking at Sabetha narrowly. Suddenly she stood up, grabbing the bottles of wine. “Right. You’re coming with me.” She gestured with her chin. “We’re going to the Floating Grave.”

Thoughts spun through Sabetha’s head. Could she have figured out the truth? Is she on to us? Disobeying was not possible. The door was across the room, and every one of the patrons and staff at the Last Mistake were Capa Barsavi’s men and women. One gesture or word from Nazca and Sabetha would be seized. Having no other choice, she stood and followed Nazca out, onto the gangplank that led to the hulked ship that served the Capa as fortress, home and headquarters.

The guards, seeing who it was, snapped-to and let the girls pass without question; they all knew Sabetha, but this was the first time she had visited the Floating Grave without Chains. Soon they were ensconced in Nazca’s comfortable cabin, and Nazca was doing the honors on the wine. Sabetha relaxed into her seat, and Nazca settled down in an armchair across from her. 

“Now that we’re alone, you can speak freely.” Nazca’s eyes were sharp behind her optics. “Do you think my brothers have what it takes to be Capa?”

Sabetha knew that Nazca suspected the truth, and knew that if she tried prevaricating, it was perfectly possible that she would end up getting “teeth lessons,” as the Barsavis called feeding someone who displeased one of them to the sharks that infested the bay. It was time for truth --- but not the whole truth!

“Well, Nazca, I have to say that they’re competent at what I’ve seen them doing. They’re able to handle themselves in a card game or a fight, they handle their drink well, they don’t have any bad habits that would disqualify them. However…”

“Do go on,” said Nazca, refilling the wine glasses, which had mysteriously emptied themselves. 

Sabetha plunged on: “But I don’t know that they have what it takes to succeed your father. Particularly since there are two of them. One of them would have to be subordinate. And I don’t see either of them being willing to accept the Number Two spot.” 

Nazca nodded. “I’ve thought that myself. What else do you see?”

“They’re overconfident. They expect to cruise on the Barsavi name. I don’t know just how well they’d deal with a serious challenger to their position.” 

Nazca looked very thoughtful. “That’s a perceptive thing to say. Our father came here with nothing, and worked his way up from there to be the Capa of all Camorr. We were born as the children of the Capa, and have never lacked for anything. I think that we all three lack the edge that our father has.”

Sabetha privately agreed. She wondered what Nazca would have been like had she grown up under Father Chains’ gentle but merciless tutelage. “You know, Nazca…of the three of you, I think you’d probably make the best successor to your father. From things the boys and Chains have said, I think that your father would agree with you.”

Nazca nodded. “You may well be right. However, if Papa designated me as his heir, I’d have two problems named Anjais and Pachero. I couldn’t just have them killed; they have a lot of connections to the higher ranking garristas and their friends would be upset. I could have a major uprising against my authority, which I would not be able to afford at that stage of the game, and wouldn’t want at any stage.”

Sabetha imagined what that would be like. She was too young to remember firsthand what a civil war among the Right People was like, but she could easily imagine it. The Secret Peace would be gone, and the yellowjackets would be busy hanging bevies of victims from the bridge on every Penance Day. And even traveling around the city would be dangerous, both because of the risk of getting caught in the crossfire between two rival gangs, and the risk of being specifically targeted by someone with a grudge or who identified with the “other side.” Profits would be down for everybody, and the elaborate confidence schemes the Gentleman Bastards really specialized in would be much more difficult to pull off. 

“I don’t think any of us want a civil war, Nazca,” said Sabetha, taking a long sip of her lemon wine. “But Anjais and Pachero are problems that won’t go away. Pity your father doesn’t send them somewhere else, to learn the business more from the ground up the way he did.”

Nazca gave her friend a piercing look. “That would be a good idea! I should suggest it to him.” She snagged the bottle and refilled her glass, which had unaccountably gone empty. “I wonder where they should be sent? The Right People in Karthain are a bunch of losers who’re under the thumbs of the Bondsmagi, like everyone else in that town. Would Tel Verrar be a good idea, do you think, or maybe Espara?”

“I can’t really say anything about Tel Verrar, since I’ve never been there. Espara might be a good choice. But I’d want to split them up if I were arranging this.”

“I’ll have a talk with Papa about it. Strictly between ourselves, he has mentioned to me that he’s worried about what’ll happen when he’s gone. He considers the Secret Peace, and the way the Right People prosper, to be his greatest accomplishments, and he hates to think of them going when he does.” 

“I can see why,” Sabetha murmured. To herself, she reflected: And if you or your father knew just how much the Gentleman Bastards violate your father’s precious Secret Peace, dear, I’d be in a shark’s gullet before an hour could pass! The Gentleman Bastards targeted the very nobles who were supposed to be spared by the Right People, under the terms of the Secret Peace, and rooked those nobles of fortunes. They saw it as sacred duty to their god.

“We do have another thing in common, don’t we, dear?” asked Nazca. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. She leaned forward and purred: “Locke is my pezon…but he’s more to you, isn’t he, Sabetha? Tell me, did you two finally figure out how you felt about each other while you were away?”

Sabetha blushed, very uncharacteristically. That blush told Nazca all she needed to know, and she gave a soft, triumphant whoop. She gathered Sabetha in for a girl-to-girl hug. “Oh, I knew it would happen sooner or later! Do the others know about it?”

Sabetha smiled. “Living in such close quarters, and knowing each other as well as we do, how could they not? Chains is rather amused by it, the twins, of course, are dreadfully jealous that Locke got started before they did, and Jean’s behind Locke one hundred percent, as always. I’m happy, but…”

“But?”

“But he drives me crazy!” Once the dam was broken, Sabetha couldn’t hold it back. “I love him…I think I always have…but if I don’t watch out, he’ll absorb me completely! It’s always been like this! I was away from the Gentleman Bastards when he joined up, and I came back to find that he’d taken over my place! I used to be able to lead the twins around; nowadays they follow Locke’s lead like trained dancing bears! And so do Jean and I!”

“He hasn’t changed much,” Nazca mused. “I remember the first time I ever met him very well, for all that it was years ago and I’d had, truth be told, rather more to drink than was wise. He was this skinny little creature straight out of Shades’ Hill, barely able to handle the drink of rum that went with taking the pezon’s oath, and once he was done swearing the oath to my father, he swore to me!” Nazca’s face lit up in a smile. “I was totally taken aback! I hadn’t expected to have a pezon of my own so soon! How envious my brothers were!”

“That’s my Locke,” said Sabetha, smiling reminiscently. “You do know that one reason the Thiefmaker had to get rid of him was because he stole too much, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Nazca laughed. “How Father laughed when he heard those stories! Yes, it was excessive, yes, it broke the Secret Peace, but oh, what incredible talent and initiative he saw in Locke! Part of why the Thiefmaker was authorized to delay Locke’s execution was because Father thought that Father Chains could tame and train that wild talent!”

“Well, dear,” said Sabetha, “the first time Locke and I met up was when I was yanked out of my usual slot in Windows to supervise three newbie teasers in lifting purses at the Penance Day hangings. Two losers, lackwits named No-Teeth and Tam, both of them fit only for shark feed…and Locke! What a contrast he was!” She shook her head, refilling her glass. “Each of us had to bring something we’d stolen back to Shades’ Hill or go without dinner. The two other nitwits I was saddled with couldn’t do it…one of them was traumatized by the hangings; it was his first time seeing that and some of the victims were people he’d known…but Locke made up for it without even needing to be told what to do!”

“That’s Locke! Always scheming, always has a plan! He’s got enough forward momentum for ten of the ordinary Right People!” The women laughed and drank their wine. 

“He first fell in love with me that day, and he’s never fallen out of it,” Sabetha murmured. “I didn’t know how he felt till some time after we were with the Gentleman Bastards. Father Chains had set up a scenario where it looked like the yellowjackets had me, and all but had to sit on Locke to keep him from charging in, heedless, to rescue me. Even though Locke knew the risks we all take.”

“You’re a lucky woman, having a man who cares about you that much,” Nazca said, a little envy in her voice. “Between my looks and who I am, no man has ever cared about me that much in that way. Not even Locke. He sees me more as the sister he never had.” She grinned suddenly. “And wouldn’t he be a contrast to Anjais and Pachero?” 

“He would, at that.” Sabetha sipped her lemon wine, noting in passing that she was a little drunk. “And he does have a sense of right and wrong. When he found out about the Jeremites’ cute little customs involving redheaded virgins, I could tell that he was horrified.”

“As was I, when I heard. As were Anjais and Pachero. As was Papa.” Nazca’s voice was flat, and when Sabetha looked at her, her eyes were hard and cold behind her optics. “The Guilded Lilies and Docksies have standing policies regarding Jeremites. Any Jeremites who come to them and ask for a redhead will be subdued and turned over to Papa’s men.” Nobody would have mistaken Nazca’s expression for a smile. “After Papa and Sage Kindness have had a little talk with them about the error of their ways, they’re to get teeth lessons.”

“Oh.” Sabetha rapidly decided she liked that idea. “May I watch, if it ever happens?” She ran a hand through her hair. The dye job needed to be renewed, and she made a mental note to stop at an alchemist’s shop for some dye before heading back to the temple. She cursed the Jeremites for putting her to this extra inconvenience, but she knew that her hair was distinctive enough that she’d have needed to disguise it even if Jerem had sunk beneath the sea. In her profession, conspicuousness was death. She raised her glass. “Here’s to the old Thiefmaker. For all that he’d have sold corpses to cannibals if he’d found the opportunity to do so, he would never, ever have sold me to the Jeremites, and he made very sure I always covered and dyed my hair.” Nazca nodded, and they clinked their glasses together in tribute to the memory of the wicked old man who’d been Sabetha’s first mentor in the ways of the Right People. 

“And still,” Nazca mused, holding the bottle upside down and staring owlishly at the few drops that came from it, “we wouldn’t do without him, would we, Sabetha?”

Sabetha flashed on the thought of a world without Locke Lamora in it. Yes, she’d probably be the leader by right of the Gentleman Bastards when Chains was gone, yes, she would not be in danger of being absorbed by Locke and his larger-than-life personality…but life would be so boring and bleak!

When Locke was around, the air seemed to fizz with possiblities. His schemes were flashy, wild, and shouldn’t have worked, but, somehow, he pulled success out of the jaws of failure again and again. She resented losing her leadership to him, she especially resented losing the priest role to him…but he challenged her, he excited her, he was her intellectual equal in ways that the twins, and even Jean, weren’t, and with him around, she pushed her limits and expanded them, again and again! 

“Thirteen forbid we should ever do without him, Nazca! I may sometimes want to strangle him…”

“But you’d have the heart’s blood of anybody who hurt him. That is, if Calo, Galdo, and Jean hadn’t beat you to it!” Nazca shook her head ruefully. “I envy you, like I said. You’re in for a wild ride in life, but I’d give anything to have that ahead of me!”

Both friends laughed, long and loud. Nazca did the honors on refilling the wine, and then leaned back against some cushions. “Now, you’ve got to tell me about it. And don’t spare the details!” Sabetha giggled, and leaned forward, launching into the tale of how she’d finally come to lose her virginity.

Toward evening, the women finally decided it was time to call it quits. They were both somewhat tipsy, and the shadows were lengthening, signalling that night would soon be on Camorr. Giggling, they went up to the main deck of the Floating Grave, and Nazca walked down the gangplank to the pier with Sabetha. Then, she cleared her throat. 

"Sabetha..." Sabetha turned, her blood suddenly chilling. All of a sudden, despite the wine she'd taken aboard, Nazca sounded completely sober. "Sabetha, you know I love you dearly. You're my best female friend. But Locke is my pezon. If you ever hurt him, betray him, break his heart...it's me you'll be answering to. Got me?" At that moment, Nazca Barsavi was every inch the daughter of the ruthless Capa of all Camorr. 

Sabetha nodded hard. "I'd sooner cut off my arm than hurt him!"

Nazca smiled. Her tone was gentle, but there was an undertone of knives, of sharks swimming in deep, dark water, under it. "Then we understand each other." Then Nazca's smile turned genuine. "In any case, it's getting late. Back to the temple with you, girl! Do you want one of the Red Hands to escort you? The streets are getting dark."

 

THE END


End file.
